Why is the Government in my Shower?

December 6, 2017.Reading time 5 minutes.

I told my daughter to wash the dogs and she lifted a headphone long enough to say it was too cold. This is one of a litany of ridiculous excuses, but I let her get away with it until the dogs smelled so bad I could pinpoint their location when I pulled into the driveway. At that point, something had to give. “This is Georgia”, I ranted. “It’s a mild fall! They have fur to keep them warm!”

Unconvinced, my animal rights advocate negotiated the use of my shower for the canines. They got washed and I got a nice slugtrail of dog water from the bathroom to the porch. Great.

After she emerged, she had the audacity to question the water pressure in my shower. I told her it was weak because that’s where the government lives. Her eyes grew wide for just a second while she considered the implications. But as with most things I tell her, she quickly sized it up to poppycock and trudged off to interact with actual intelligence of the electronic variety. She didn’t believe the old man, but it is true.

Like mold growing over cheese in the back corner of the fridge, the government is no longer content with mattress legislation and has steadily crept into our collective bathroom. I’ve already had a fight with them over the anti-scald valve – a fight I am proud to say I won. A snip here and a tug there and I bypassed their foolish legislation so that my wife can enjoy a steamy winter shower to her heart’s content. For at least that day, I was her knight in dripping armor. But now they have forced shower head manufacturers to reduce the flow of water in my shower to a measly 2.5 gallon per minute trickle! Is nothing sacred? I’m past fifty now, I know all about reduced flow but there are some things that can be helped.

This is the same government that finally heeded the request of veterans to issue ID cards. Yes, rather than carry your DD-214 in your wallet (which bears your social security number), congress forced the VA to create a better identification system in 2015. That was two years ago. The government has all of my information and issues ID’s for everything, but it took over two years for them to create the framework. I want my discount at Denny’s without opening myself up to identity theft!

The mandated deadline for creating the process was November 2017. On the last day of the month, the system opened… and promptly crashed. It is dead as a doornail. I assume it will take another two years to fix it. After all, they are too busy tinkering with my shower.

This discontented and unidentified veteran has a wrench. I took the nozzle off and found it clogged with calcium deposits. A quick internet search led me to a baking soda/vinegar concoction that didn’t work. A second search told me about water pressure restrictors. I don’t like restrictions! Why is the government obsessed with my shower?

All it took was needle-nose plyers to remove the governmental interference and the first test blew out enough calcium to meet the National Institute of Health’s yearly requirement for a lactating woman. It’s like standing under a pressure-washer. This morning I lost three freckles and part of a tattoo, but it was totally worth the price to live free from government tyranny.

If I could only get 25% off a Grand Slam breakfast, I would be swimming in liberty.

Christmas Roulette

November 29, 2017.Reading time 5 minutes.

It is nearly December… sigh.

In all honesty, I dread the arrival of the holidays. We are Christmas people who over-decorate every inch of our home. We have amassed an attic full of trinkets and baubles that I just lugged downstairs. The end of the Georgia summer heat sets off a season of much-loved family tradition and I should be excited for its arrival. But, now… now there is a specter – a tangible presence is ushered in with the falling leaves and hovers in our home. It would be more apt to label it a tangible absence.

I would best describe it as a constant feeling that something bad is about to happen – like I’ve got a bill due that I cannot pay or a tense confrontation that is imminent. I can function, smile, and do what I’m supposed to do. But this feeling is perpetual and keeps me on edge.

The specter haunts anyone who has experienced recent loss and certainly every grieving parent I know shares my dread of the Christmas. This time of year is the ultimate paradox and I’ll share the main reasons why.

The holidays bring family together. We sit, talk, reminisce, and look forward. And while we laugh, my mind drifts back to chilly February days when this same group of loved ones sat vigil watching Kylie’s body deteriorate. Days later we gathered around a coffin. Those images resurface when our larger family is together. Same group of people, same scenes floating through my mind. I wish they would stop, but I can’t make them and don’t know if I ever will.

Holiday traditions are another struggle. Sometimes following them makes me happy and sometimes it leaves me gasping for breath because the hole is magnified times ten. I have no way of knowing which emotion will surface – grief’s most callous trick is its randomness. To compound the problem, modifying traditions feels like I am trying move on from a space I can’t and don’t want to leave. It becomes a game of Christmas Roulette – spin the chamber and fire, never knowing which tradition will shoot a bullet straight through the heart.

Do we hang the stocking? Yes

Will it cause me to sigh every time I pass? Yes

Do we hang Kylie’s ornaments? Yes

Can we ever make a Christmas card again? Not Likely

When we watch Elf will I always hear her Buddy impersonations? Yes

Oh, the memories that this time of year brings: tree shopping, elf tricks, screaming babies in Santa’s lap, early morning sprints to the stockings, red and green wrapping paper explosive mayhem. In the silence of the season, I love them and I crave them. But I also despise them because one of my children won’t be coming downstairs to pour through her stocking.

It’s a very cruel Holiday Paradox.

Rather than leave this post without any hope or positivity, I’ve been trying to figure out what advice to offer those who might have a friend or loved one living this paradox. This is hard because I do not believe time heals all wounds and since the circumstance that caused the grief cannot be altered, there is almost nothing anyone can do to help. I think the greatest gift I could receive is for friends to understand that they just can’t understand nor can they fix. Words likely won’t comfort but a listening ear is to be cherished.

In the end, I suppose my Christmas wish is for my friends to enjoy their holidays, love their families, and know I might need an extra ear or shoulder from time to time in December. If they can do that and tolerate my lunacy until January, I’ll get by. And when the game is roulette without a wheel, getting by is the best and only option.